


Parfum

by DulcetShoujo



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, F/M, Grief, Making perfume, Romance, Vegeta owns a perfumery in West City (but it's really Budapest), Weird blend of 1920s-1950s Europe, but not actually Europe, loosely based off She Loves Me -- The Musical and Phantom Thread (the movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DulcetShoujo/pseuds/DulcetShoujo
Summary: Vegeta The Fourth holds great pride in the legacy his late mother has built, toiling about to recreate her best fragrance with no results. All until someone new steps into the frame.





	Parfum

**Author's Note:**

> So my mind said, what if we put Saiyans and made them run a perfume shop in a quasi-early 1900's setting, think Budapest. This is the outcome. Bulma won't be introduced yet, because I want to make this challenging for me and write about Vegeta first. Big thanks to the Vegebulocracy discord for encouraging me to write this! I took some liberties with Tarble. I am really trying hard with Vegeta since he is the most difficult character to write in my eyes. I hope you all like this!

There is much pride to be held in the Ouji perfumery and skin care shop. Ouji's is considered one if not the greatest store to fulfill the said need on  _Earth._ It was all thanks to the late Empress of the store who so meticulously cared for appearances and her customer's beauty. And such, the marvelous store rose from the ashes and settled in the center of the busiest streets of West City. Inside the perfumery, were five men and a woman all preparing for their daily routines.

The woman, tall and slender with raven coiled hair that toppled neatly over her colorful fitted dress. She huffed, stressing the beauty of the display table. She deemed it quite necessary to have it look as attractive as possible to the passing customers. Almost inticing them with the grandiose shades of pastel pink and blues, and spraying the entrance with the most delightful of smells. Launch always got her work done in such a dutiful manner, despite at times wishing she could simply go home to her sickly father.

Her alluring figure caught the attention of a rather sleazy gentleman named Raditz with slicked back long hair contained into a ponytail. Raditz's entire schtick was to entice and enamor the customers with his charming and at time lecherous attitude. He was rather popular with the elderly ladies that religiously bought soap at the store. He boasted the title of the highest commission, given, of course in how easily he seemed to entice the female gender...albeit, far older than he.

Nappa has been a long time employee of Ouji's perfumery and had no hopes of ever-rising the ranks to a position of leadership. He was destined to be shoving boxes into the closet and selling perfume to ungrateful old hags who don't give a damn about anything but themselves. But would Mr. Vegeta the Third or Fourth hear about this, Nappa's head surely would be sliced off. Tarble was the youngest on the Ouji dynasty, only acting as a delivery boy for the time being. Primarily under Vegeta the Third's orders to truly gauge the prowess of his younger son, though despise it as he may, he relied much on Nappa to teach him the ropes to prove to his father, he too could be a charming salesman through his rugged boyish looks and wild hair.

Vegeta the Third was always sitting stoically in his office, glancing at the image of his late wife whilst his firstborn son manned the store. In truth, Vegeta the Third was much like a shadow to the customers at times, only leaving when there was a ruckus, an important sale or opening and closing. His eldest son, Vegeta the Fourth was the true front and center. Nearly everyone knew  _about_ him, he carried himself in such a princely way one would believe he carried no imperfections...rather than the overflowing ego that seemed to radiate off of him.

"Oh, Tarble," Launch whined as she continued to adjust the decor at the entrance of the store with careful precision, "it's far too nice a day to be cooped up in this darn shop, stacking soap!" She droned leaning miserably on the railing of her step ladder. "When will you be old enough to take me away from  _all of this!_ "

Tarble excitedly shot up from the fancy decorative chair, a hand stretched out to Launch, "But I am old enough!" He shouted to the woman stalking the high ceilings, "trust me, my father says it all the time!"

Launch sighed, leaning herself against the silver rod. "Well then...marry me!" She exclaimed, jokingly, "and I'll quit my job, cross my heart." The raven-haired woman stared down to the practical teenage boy, "No, no Tarble...I don't think you are old enough to take my place."

Tarble stubbornly crossed his arms leaning himself against a chair and shaking his head. "I'm catching up, just you wait," he stubbornly tells himself, "besides my brother always tells me I'll reach thirty-five before you do."

Launch's face flushed angrily, her eyes directed towards the gentleman with gravity-defying hair, currently hissing at his younger brother for saying such a thing to the practical spinster. "Mr. Ouji!" The curly-haired woman exclaimed, heels clicking against the staircase. "Why I ought to smack that stoic look off your face!" The woman cried in disbelief, "How dare you say such a statement  _to me."_

Vegeta puffed out some air, directing his line of sight to his comrade who just exited the restroom, buckling his pants back into place. "You know, Ms. Shan, I would adore continuing this conversation but it looks like your  _playmate_  there just exited the restroom, so if you excuse me..." Vegeta stated dryly walking towards the staircase to get as far as possible from the woman.

"Good Morning Ms. Shan, and may I say you are looking ravishing," the sleazy man stated, directing his crotch towards the woman causing her to flush intensely to the color red. As his arms wrapped around her, he rocked her by the waist holding her close, "and what a  _lovely_ dress you are wearing today."

Nappa scoffed glaring over to the eldest Ouji who currently watched in much distaste the obscene scene playing out before his eyes. "Alright, cut it out," the flame-haired prince barked. "You are making an embarrassment out of my mother's name and I will not stand for such!"

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Ouji, here to soil our mornings with his glaring voice," Raditz stated whilst unhanding the befuddled woman. "Why yes, your majesty we will get right on with our work."

Vegeta simply scoffed, adjusting his collar and glaring over to his employee. "It may be far too much of a waste of a day, but work must be completed and I expect  _every single one of you to comply,"_ the stoic prince shouted out, "Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, sir!" The other four shouted in unison.

And the clock struck 8 AM. The customers spiraled inside asking for every product and Vegeta overlooked it all from the bottom of the staircase, on occasion, he recalled the hectic chatter with words like cream, shampoo, and other frivolous things seeped into the air. Yes, this was the Ouji Perfumery in its full force. Scents dancing in the air whilst the chatter of satisfied women rose delightfully in the atmosphere. This is the legacy Vegeta wished and  _will_  reserve, for his mother's sake. The stoic man turned to workshop beside his father's office.

The moist smell of the wood paneling danced around Vegeta's nose, refreshing him from the powerful scent on the floor below. He glanced at the rickety wooden shelf packed with glass vials, sealed tight with thick corks. Vegeta took off his suit coat, folding it over his arm as he examined the labels with a foreign scripture. Vegetasei was a beautiful, but poor nation swallowed wholly by the economic imperialism of the ambitious neighboring nations. His mother prided herself in speaking its native tongue - Vegeta refused to learn and found it difficult in his mother's absence to understand the text.

The flame-haired man carefully played with the glass vials, examining the liquid's viscosity. As a child, he recalled running into the room as a child during the war. The noise of bombs from neighboring cities always rang in his head when he allowed himself too much time in the room. The distinct memory of ducking between his mother's impossibly long skirt, listening to the soft folk tune she would hum whilst the powerful scents exploded from her flask. Vegeta stared emptily to the other shelf stacked with empty bottles full of her work.

It was the most delightful smell he'd ever encountered. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn't possibly imagine just what created the harmonious mixture which he was so fond of. Vegeta quickly slipped on his coat, buttoning it back into place, running a calloused hand across his wild mane whilst stepping out of the room and right into Tarble who was to get down the staircase. Through the indistinct chatter, Tarble was too distracted to notice his rother who was staringly icily towards him. "Tarble!"

The lanky boy stood erect, adjusting the suspenders and hat which had been falling off. "Is this a way an Ouji should behave?" Vegeta questioned, "Running around like some...some ingrate!"

"I-I was just trying to go downstairs and-" Tarble stammered through his words, shuffling a piece of paper to his back pocket. "I need to do my next delivery, that's all!"

Vegeta eyed Tarble suspiciously, having heard the paper crumbling. The taller man leaned over, stony onyx eyes observing the younger boy's move, "What do you have there?" Tarble was beet red. Vegeta knew his brother was a terrible liar...especially to him. "Tarble,  _hand it to me."_

The younger sibling complied, handing him the paper with a snicker. "I didn't know you were part of a  _lone-_ "

Vegeta quickly scrambled, covering his brother's mouth and shushing the boy profusely. Vegeta's face now burning from the embarrassment of having been discovered. "Y-You little bastard!" Vegeta whispered angrily. "You were going to show this to all of them!"

Tarble smacked his tongue, a pout gracing his features. "I didn't think it was true!" He whispered back defensively. " _The great Vegeta_ part a lonely hearts club," Tarble emphasized, "if that isn't the saddest thing I've ever heard brother, I haven't the slightest idea what is."

Vegeta glanced at the letter he wrote his anonymous lover and back to Tarble. "Now you listen here boy," Vegeta practically sneered, "word of this gets out and I will not hesitate to have father replace you with some scrap from the street!"

Tarble took the threat to heart. The fire burning in his brother's eyes struck fear in the young boy's bones, he stuffed himself into his buttoned-up collar. "You have my word," Tarble said, dusting himself off and whipping around. "If you don't mind me, I have things to deliver...perhaps you don't remember but this is the  _Ouji_ perfumery... _not the Vegeta perfumery."_

Vegeta seethed watching his snot-nosed younger brother head down the stairs into a jubilant Launch and Raditz dancing about to the song "Second Hand Rose," playing on the store record player. Vegeta watched the two, brilliant grins plastered on their face as Nappa attempted to ignore them, shuffling and organizing his clerk desk. Vegeta descended down the staircase shoving his secretive love letter into the pocket of his jacket. Hearing as the two erupted into a fit of laughter. Vegeta's hand traveled to the slim needle, lifting it from the record.

The domineering figure cleared his throat, getting the attention of his workers. "I hate to be a killjoy," Vegeta stated sarcastically, "but rather than frolicking about,  _can we get to work?_ " Raditz clicked his tongue, releasing the bombshell and kissing her knuckled. Launch blushed, winking coquettishly towards him. To put it plainly, Vegeta was more than uncomfortable with the act of public affection that just transpired before him. " _Forget this,"_ Vegeta stated, stepping out of the perfumery and into the sunlight.

He gazed at the grandiose architecture surrounding the streets of West City, his eyes filled with a distinct shine he barely ever have. Strolling down the sidewalk and past the bakeries with the tantalizing smells of baked goods, he stops before a post office and pulling out a slim white envelope with a wax stamp, a letter for his  _dear friend._

**Author's Note:**

> I was so nervous about this! I hope you guys like it. Please let me know your thoughts!


End file.
